


Bathtime

by missdorothysnarker



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Bathing/Washing, M/M, Open Marriage, Open Relationships, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdorothysnarker/pseuds/missdorothysnarker
Summary: Totally self-indulgent naughty fluff. Or: Armie gives Timmy a bath.





	Bathtime

Armie carries a sleepy Timmy to bed on his back, long limbs clinging like koala, curled head bent over his shoulder.

“Come on, Sweet Tea, time for bed,” Armie cajoles as he hoists him higher on his back. Timmy murmurs, whiney. 

“I was fine on the sofa...” 

“No, no, no. I know you, and that sofa is probably littered with pistachio shells crunching under the pillows. Besides, you think Liz would let a houseguest sleep on a sofa? I'd never hear the end of it. So sorry, but it's a bed for you, Timmy.”

Timmy's long lashes sweep across the nape of Armie's neck. He squirms a little in his hold. It's been so long since he was carried by anyone – since he was a little boy. He'd forgotten how nice it was so to held, firmly, securely, in someone's arms. Safe and sound...

Armie stops suddenly, breaking into Timmy's drowsy reverie.

“Hey, hey buddy, you need the bathroom? It's right here. There's fresh towels and stuff so help yourself.”

“Mmm hmmm, yeah... I needa shower, I'm all stinky and sweaty...” Timmy makes to slide down off Armie's back, but to his surprise Armie holds him fast, carries him into the bathroom. Timmy squawks.

“Hey, hey, you can let me down now!”

Armie sets him down and Timmy feels dwarfed by him all over again. Sometimes he forgets how different their bodies are, but when it comes to moments like these he remembers that's Armie's a giant, golden-haired like a Greek god where Timmy is small and slender, pale-skinned and dark-curled.

“You want a bath? You look like you could use one, man. I can run you one.”

Timmy's head snaps up to meet Armie's steady gaze. Um, what? Armie wants to run him a bath? Bathe him? What is this?

But instead of voicing any objection, Timmy just nods. If Armie wants to play paternal and take care of him, fine... The boundaries are blurred enough as it is.

He watches Armie crouch, kneeling, by the faucet, testing the temperature of the water running from the taps on his wrist. Like Timmy's a baby, unable to take a bath by himself.

It's quiet but for the sound of running water, the bathtub filling up. Liz is on a day trip with Harper and Ford, letting them have some “boy time.” Alone time. Does she know what Armie's doing for Timmy now?

He can't imagine Armie doing anything without her express permission.

Timmy has a sudden urge to climb into Armie's lap and sleep there, melting into a liquid-bodied boy. Armie would let him, watch over him, protect him. Stroke his hair...  
Timmy wants to nuzzle him, nip at him like a kitten or a puppy.

Armie clears his throat.

“I think the water's good now, if you want to get in.”

Now or never. Speak or die.

Timmy uncurls himself to stand. Slips off his T-shirt. Hand to the button of his jeans. Armie bends over his feet, peeling off his socks. This has to be intentional, a reference to Elio and Oliver. Oliver and Elio. Timmy and Armie. Armie and Timmy. It's hard to say where the characters stopped and they begin.

The way Armie touches his feet is reverential, like he'd kiss Timmy's toes if he could.

Timmy strips off his boxer briefs before he can think better of it. He can feel Armie's eyes on him, his body. Timmy shivers, toes dipping in the water. It's perfect – hot but not scalding, just the way he likes it.

He sinks down to sit, hugging chest to knees. Armie touches his shoulder and he startles.

“Hey... is this ok?” He sounds so wary, vulnerable, on the edge of being broken. “I'll leave if this is making you uncomfortable. I don't wanna freak you out, Timmy. That's the last thing I ever want, ok?” 

Timmy cracks a smile at him. “Why so serious, Mr. Hammer?”

He can see the moment Armie's eye snags on his pebbled nipple, small and flat and rose-brown. 

Timmy tugs his hand. “Come on, please.”

Armie leans over the lip of the tub until their faces are millimeters apart. “What? What do you want? Tell me.”

Timmy wants to say: Kiss me. Touch me. Wash me. 

Instead he says, “Come in, Armie. Come on, there's plenty of room in the tub.” He splashes around a little to make his point.

Armie raises an eyebrow. “I don't think we both can fit in there.”

Timmy pouts. “Please?”

In the end, they make it fit, although most of the water ends up on the tiled floor. There's some awkward maneuvering – neither of them is used to bathing naked with anyone, much less a dude – but finally Timmy sits between Armie's thighs, leaning back on his chest. Feeling fragile and delicate, surrounded by so much aggressive masculinity. He's never felt so much a boy, as opposed to a man.

He knows Armie likes it too. He can feel how much, pressing up behind him. Timmy wriggles a little, imagining being fucked by Armie. It'd be an undertaking that his asshole clenches at, but the thought makes his blood burn hot.  
Timmy nuzzles up against Armie's bristly, bronzed jaw. This, he remembers from that summer two years ago.

Armie kisses the top of his curls, fingers playing with his hair.

“So much for getting you clean, baby,” he says off-handedly, but they both freeze at the endearment. 

Timmy grins impishly at him. “Am I your baby? Do you have a baby kink I should know about, Daddy?” 

Armie rolls his eyes. “Don't make me barf all over you, Timmy Tim.” He grows serious, thoughtful. “But that said, I do want take care of you. You're so young, Timmy, so open with everyone, so giving of yourself... I want to protect you from people who would take advantage of that openness.”

“Like you?” Teases Timmy, coy.

In response Armie tickles his ribs and Timmy shrieks bloody murder. Their bodies slithering all over each other in the cooling water, aroused. Ignoring it, as if they both aren't hyperaware.

Timmy gets back at Armie by shaking his wet hair out like a dog, splattering droplets everywhere. 

“Ok, ok, that's enough, kid! Time for bed!”

Timmy bats his green eyes at Armie.

“Are you gonna take me to bed?”

Armie grunts. “Yeah, I'll be your beast of burden.”

Somehow he's standing, water streaming from his gigantic cock, and he's pulling Timmy up and out and over his shoulder like a caveman, somehow not dropping him given the slipperiness of their skin.

Timmy gives an indignant squawk, but doesn't struggle, letting himself be carried. As Armie steps out of the tub, he grabs hold of one of Timmy's buttcheek, his large palm cupping the whole pert little cheek in his hand.

Timmy shivers when a finger slides, dipping into his crack – a promise of what's to come.


End file.
